And nothing in this world is meant to be easy, Kate thought.
That, she believed, was for the next one.
Valora oversaw the preparation of Dal’s body with Signe helping beside her. It was unusual for a foreigner to be allowed to help with such a ritual in Rime, but the rules about these sorts of things, it seemed, were going to change. And besides, no one was going to argue with Signe about it. Her grief was like the tide—nothing could hold it back. Kate’s heart ached for her friend, and worry for her consumed her thoughts. She’d lost so much, too much—her mother, her love, her health. Kate knew even someone as fierce and strong as Signe could still break.
Corwin, too, was taking the death hard, although he did his best to keep his grief hidden. His official coronation wasn’t to take place for another few weeks—not until most of the rebuilding of Norgard had gotten under way, a process quickened by the help of wilders—but he’d been declared high king across all of Rime, the remaining lords swearing fealty in writing. As high king, he needed to be strong for his people. There were many hurting, many afraid both about what had happened and by all the changes coming now. From the beginning Corwin made it clear that the persecution of wilders was over, but it would take time for the hatred and prejudice to die. Decades, perhaps, Kate thought, if not centuries. They would have to remain vigilant.
They were off to a good start, however. Yaron had been elected head of the Mage League, which, moving forward, would be known only as the League, as wilders were soon to be joining their ranks. Grand Master Storr had survived the battle of Norgard; the moment the Rimish forces invaded, he’d immediately surrendered, and just as quickly proclaimed his innocence by insisting that Gavril had been controlling him. It seemed a valid excuse, but Kate quickly determined he was lying. He’d sworn fealty to the Godking for the same reason he’d done everything else—the desire to maintain his power. In the end his lying about being forced only made the case against him all the stronger. He was awaiting trial, one that, for the first time, would include the high king and his councilors alongside the leaders of the League. No longer was the League going to be given the autonomy they’d known in the past. Corwin declared they were to be a part of Rime, never separate. And in return, magists and wilders both were to be given a seat in the high king’s court.
“We are all Rimish,” Corwin said over and over again. Eventually the rest of Rime would start to believe it—and even if they didn’t, they’d have to live with it anyway.
Once Dal’s body had been prepared, Corwin and Bonner, along with the help of a few others, carried him up the Steps of Sorrows on Goddess Tor all the way to the Asterion itself, where they laid him atop a funeral pyre. Valora prayed over his body, speaking all the ancient rituals that would send his spirit through the veil and into the beyond. Once done, Valora lit the torch and handed it to Corwin. As high king, it was his right to set the fire for his best friend. With tears falling freely from his face, Corwin accepted the torch, then turned and handed it to Signe.
“Dal would’ve wanted you to do it,” Corwin said, his voice thick with emotions. For a moment, Kate thought Signe would refuse. Eshians buried their dead.
But after a moment, she took it from Corwin and said, “He loved us both.” Then she turned and walked toward the pyre, a slight tremble in her arms. The fuel on the pyre caught at once, the fire quickly rising up to consume the body offered to it. As Signe stepped back from the building heat, Kate heard her whispering in her native tongue. A prayer spoken to her own gods.
Dal’s fire burned all through the night. Kate could see its chaotic glow from atop the battlements as she went out that night in search of Signe. In the hectic days that had followed the battle, they’d had little time to talk, a problem Kate sought to rectify now. She could sense Signe’s pain from afar, feeling it without her magic. Kate found her easily, standing atop the battlements with her gaze fixed on Dal’s funeral pyre in the distance. Her cheeks glistened in the moonlight, evidence of her silent tears.
Kate stood next to her, then slid an arm around Signe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’ve never been so sorry before.”
A sob racked Signe’s body, and she turned her head toward Kate, burying her face in Kate’s shoulder. Kate hugged her more tightly, saying nothing, doing nothing other than letting her grief flow unhindered. Sometimes a purging was the only answer.
At last, Signe raised her head again, and Kate released her shoulders, letting her arm fall to her side. But at once, Signe took her hand and held it.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Kate,” Signe said. “The sacrifices we made were worth it, all of them. No great thing can be accomplished without great sacrifice. Such is the way of things in this life.”
“You’ve always been wise beyond your years,” Kate said, smiling.
Signe returned the smile, her grief retreating from her expression, for the time being. “We are both wise now, I do believe.” She paused, her head cocking to the side, birdlike. “Becoming the Paragon has changed you.”
Kate nodded. It had indeed. A change that went far deeper than the brand on her chest. The star emblem had faded to white, same as the scars on her neck where Rendborne had struck her with the Hellsteel.
“We both have changed,” Signe said, her gazed fixed on the funeral pyre once more. “With more to come soon, I’m afraid.”
Sudden dread spread through Kate at Signe’s words. She drew a deep breath, trying to quell it. “What do you mean?”
After a pause, Signe turned back to her. “I’m leaving. As soon as the coronation and wedding are over.”
“Why?” Kate didn’t bother asking her where she was going, the answer obvious.
“Do you remember what I told my mother that day in the dungeon?”
Kate thought about it a moment, soon recalling the strange word. “Kaiolah. You said it was the secret to your black powder. But what is it?”
“It’s a prophecy. Like Seva, there used to be magic in the Esh Islands as well, but it vanished many years ago. Until now. Until me.”
Kate’s eyebrows climbed her forehead in surprise. “You have magic?”
“Yes. Or at least, I believe that’s what it is. It’s the only explanation.” Signe sighed and rubbed her cheek; weariness had painted dark lines beneath her eyes. “The black powder I mixed for Bonner’s revolvers was never the same as what the Furen Mag makes and sells. Theirs is similar, yes, but there is an ingredient in the making that can only be found in the Esh Islands, and the Furen Mag never allow it to be exported anywhere else. It is our most highly guarded secret.”
Kate’s throat tightened at her choice of words. Already Signe was counting herself among the sisterhood. “Then how were you able to make it?”
“By adding an ingredient of my own. One that comes from me. A drop of my tears or sweat is the key.”
Now Kate blinked, her mind unable to comprehend the magnitude of Signe’s claims. “You mean you put a part of yourself in every batch?” But she’d made so much, an unfathomable amount.
“A single drop goes a long way.” Signe grimaced. “But that is why no matter the circumstance, it wasn’t a secret I would ever share.”
“Except with me.” Kate was awed by the gift, her chest swelling with the pleasure of it.
“You are my sister, Kate, and my friend. I trust you with my life.”
Kate bowed her head to her. “And you, mine.”
An awkward moment passed between them, neither of them comfortable with voicing such sentiments, despite how true they were. Or maybe because of how true they were.
After a while, Signe let out a sigh. “I should’ve returned to the islands the moment I realized I was the kaiolah. The prophecy says that the person born with this ability will one day restore magic to the Esh Islands.”
Goose bumps sprouted down Kate’s arms, not in doubt of Signe’s claims but in certainty of them. Like the godtears in Seva, magic was returning to the rest of the world. And with it w
ould come change—both good and bad. She considered for a moment what might have happened if she’d succeeded in killing Rendborne with the Hellsteel, and she’d never been so glad of failure.
“And with my mother dead,” Signe continued, “I must go back. I’ll be needed more than ever, and . . . and I need to make amends for the damage I did when I left.”
“Does this have to do with the man in the ruby-buttoned doublet? And the secret you shared with him?” Kate recalled the conversation well, the day Signe had convinced her to tell Corwin the truth about her magic. And yet it seemed so long ago now.
“Yes,” Signe replied, and Kate could tell by the sharpness in her voice that she didn’t want to say more.
Kate sighed, unable to help her disappointment. “Will you ever tell me that story?”
Signe smiled. “One day. When we’re both old and hideous and our adventures are far behind us.”
“I hope mine are already behind me,” Kate said.
“Perhaps they are,” replied Signe, but then she shrugged, both of them knowing the possibility remained open.
Throwing out her arms, Kate pulled Signe into a hug. “I will miss you.” The words were an understatement, but the feelings that passed between them as they embraced spoke for the rest.
Corwin’s coronation was a grand affair.
Like most grand affairs, Kate could hardly remember it afterward, the details blurred into one long and dazzling haze. Every lord of every Rimish city traveled to Norgard to attend it. Usually, the farthest cities only sent ambassadors to represent them during such events. Not this time. It seemed all the cities had been shaken by the Sevan invasion. They were ready to strengthen the union between the cities and with the League, as well—to ensure an invasion never happened again. Kate didn’t think they needed to worry, though. Eravis had come safely through the battle, as Kate had promised her, and not long after she’d been sent home, taking with her the remnants of the Sevan soldiers who had surrendered. A sign of good faith between the two countries. Mazen Fane had been crowned king in his father’s place, and he had already expressed gratitude for his sister’s safe return. It wasn’t a true treaty, but the option seemed open to it. One day.
All Kate truly remembered afterward was the way Corwin had looked, handsome and regal and entirely kingly. Seeing him like that sent a thrill of wonder through her. She’d always known he was born to rule, but witnessing it come to fruition was a different thing entirely.
If her memory on the coronation was vague, her recollection of their wedding the following week was even more so. In many ways, it was an even grander affair. Certainly for her, at least. The dress, the jewels, the holy words spoken in the temple with the high priestess presiding, and the seven-hour banquet afterward were all like a long and blurred dream. A good one, but yet she was eager for it to end so that she could be alone with Corwin, both as themselves again and not the new king and queen, objects of celebration and scrutiny.
The moment they could, they slipped away from the banquet to their new rooms, shedding their fancy clothes the moment the door was closed and locked. They stayed awake the whole night through, savoring each other and marveling at this dream that had come true, despite the impossibilities, odds that had once been so stacked against them. They explored each other again, reacquainting and learning the stories told in their scars. His, the ones on his back and wrists from his time spent in the mines. Hers, the ones on her chest and throat, and the tattoos on her arms.
But the best part of the night, the one Kate would forever remember the most clearly, was when they snuck out of their rooms and out onto the cavalry fields, like they used to do when they were children. They brought a blanket with them and spread it out in the middle of the quiet, empty field. Ahead, the moon and its ring were full, the field below awash in silvery light. They lay on their backs side by side, staring up at it.
“The servants will talk if we’re found out here,” Kate said after a while.
Corwin rolled on his side toward her, propping his head on one hand. “Good. The chance of getting caught was always half the fun.” He leaned toward her, one hand cupping her hip, fingers pressing on her moonbelt, as he kissed her long and deep, a moment to savor.
Sighing as he pulled away, Kate grinned. “So it was. I suppose we must make this a regular activity, then. For as long as we’re able to.” She could see a time when she would no longer wear the moonbelt. The thought scared her but also thrilled her—another adventure they would experience together someday. But not now. Now was a time just for them.
“Indeed.” Corwin lay back down again. “You know, I always knew we were destined for this.”
“For what?” Kate turned to him now, mirroring his pose from a moment before.
“This.” He gestured with his hand, as if to indicate everything—the cavalry field, the moon above, Rime itself. “To be husband and wife, king and queen.”
Kate made a face. “No you didn’t. There were whole years when you never would’ve dreamed we’d have an end like this.”
“It’s not an end, Kate. This is a beginning.”
“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes. Then, unable to help herself, she ran a hand down the side of his face, savoring the rough feel of his skin against her fingers where his shaved beard was already trying to grow back again. If she were a man, she would ask one of the magists to enchant the hair away rather than have to shave so often, she thought.
Corwin closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, and when her fingers grazed his lips he kissed them. “I mean it, though,” he said, opening his eyes again. “I always did know. If not here, then at least here.” He touched his forehead first and then his heart.
Warmth spread through Kate at the sincerity she sensed in him—and not with her magic. Around his neck he still wore the crystal vial. It had been at her insistence—the king more than anyone needed protection against the power of sway—but even with it there, she believed him fully. It was a wondrous feeling to have no way to be sure, but to believe so completely.
“Me too.” Kate placed a hand across her heart. “Even when I tried to hate you, I never could.”
Corwin laughed. “Thank the gods for that.”
Thrilled by his laughter, Kate lay down again, tucking her hands under her head. “But you know, if this king and queen business doesn’t work out, we should seriously reconsider joining the circus. What do you think?”
Corwin rolled onto his side again and then gently slid on top of her, trapping her between his arms. He slid his hands down the sides of her face, smoothing back her hair. Then he kissed her, leaving her breathless when he pulled away a moment later. “So long as I’m with you, Kate, I shall be happy. Be it as king or pauper. Just you is what matters.”
Kate ran her hands up and down his back. “Just us, you mean,” she said, and then she kissed him again. Once. A hundred times.
Forever.
Acknowledgments
In the years since I started writing books, I’ve come to understand what an honor, privilege, and tremendous responsibility it is to be a storyteller. Time is our most precious possession as human beings, and the fact that you, dear reader, have spent your time here, with these characters, means the world to me. So first and foremost, my thanks go to you. I hope your time here counted for something good.
I also owe a huge debt of gratitude to Fairyloot for bestowing your special magic on Onyx & Ivory. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Also a huge thanks to LitJoy, Spearcraft, Wanderlust Reader, Pop Reads, and the Book Quay. Loot crates for books are the most amazing invention ever. You all are like fairy godmothers, spreading story magic to readers all over the world.
Another thank-you to every bookstagramer who posted a pic of Onyx & Ivory. I’m in awe of your talent with these photos.
A big round of applause for the amazing team at Balzer+Bray for your ongoing support: Alessandra Balzer, Donna Bray, Renée Cafiero, Michael D’Angelo, and Mitch Thorpe, as well as art dir
ector Alison Donalty, designer Molly Fehr, and artist ilovedust for another epic cover.
Thank you to the New Leaf team: Joanna Volpe, Kathleen Ortiz, Pouya Shahbazian, Mia Roman, and Veronica Grijalva.
Now on to my personal army of wilders and magists. First up, thanks again to my editor, Jordan Brown, for believing in me and my stories. You’re my Raith in so many ways.
Same goes for my agent, Suzie Townsend, although you’re also my Signe. So fierce and brilliant and always the person I want guarding my back. And to Cassandra Baim—with your unflappable assistance and friendly guidance, you’ve been my Bonner.
To my friends and critique partners, who keep me sane and grounded: Lori M. Lee, Kristen Simmons, Lorie Langdon, Kristina McBride, and Liz Coley. I couldn’t do this without your support.
To my wonderful and supportive family: Adam, Inara, Tanner, Betty, Phil, Debra, Krystal, Vicki, Jay, Amanda, Evie, Elaina, and Weston.
And lastly, thanks to God and his son, Jesus, who reigns with love and justice both.
About the Author
Photo by Krystal Arnett Photography
MINDEE ARNETT is the acclaimed author of Onyx & Ivory as well as Avalon and its sequel, Polaris. She lives on a horse farm in Ohio with her husband, two kids, a couple of dogs, and an inappropriate number of cats. You can find her online at www.mindeearnett.com.
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Books by Mindee Arnett
Proxy
Avalon
Polaris
Onyx & Ivory
Shadow & Flame
The Nightmare Affair
The Nightmare Dilemma
The Nightmare Charade
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